What, at first, seemed to almost go down the memory lane as a heavy thought became, in the end, not only one of the best days of my life, but also the trigger for me to drink, without even realising, three coffees in a row, at a party, earlier. Now I know why. So that I could not sleep, turn my disco ball on and write.

If I only knew that day I got to the Notting Hill police department that, years later, I would be writing about it, I would have got myself an umbrella drink right there and tchin-tchined the heaven out of everyone. Supposedly, everyone that steps into police departments in London gets cocktails at the entrance. Thank you, stars, for transforming that day into this! Into my brother and I assisting at the mystical unfolding of a Sunday we will remember forever.

Two of my brother’s former high school classmates restarted, whilst living in London, the music band they’d formed in high school. It’s what they do in their free time. One of them is the owner of the coolest guitar shop the Gallagher brothers are frequent customers of. The other one is the chef of the chicest top secret most popular places for breakfast in London where I had the juiciest salmon eggs Benedict of my life! On the same mysterious Sunday.

The band that used to be a Beatles tribute, back in high school, is now a group these men, with jobs during the day, rehearse within, on Sundays, out of passion. Now, they make their own music alongside the drummer of Groove Armada. They were all singing and rocking the tiny basement of a hidden bar very few knew about, right in front of us. My brother and I sat on the floor and swooshed in the atmosphere. It was a bar in Soho Amy Winehouse used to hang out and sing. Out of fun and pleasure.

I asked a bartender what she was like. I knew, but hearing someone who knew and saw her happy speak about her was as touching as I’d anticipated. She was just so sweet…

Listening to loud music I adore has run through my veins ever since I can remember myself. I just don’t care and I care the most at once. It’s magic! We left the bar just in time to catch the last tube from somewhere to somewhere. I’ll never forget the strong wind connecting the cars of the subway and us all, one more time, before heading home. We were all standing, our bodies were naturally going with the flow at what seemed like high speed, holding on to the bars, slightly stretching, talking, not talking, looking, tossed hair, the laughter all over the place, a genuine cheer has been invading our souls all day long.  

My brother’s friends knew me from when I was a kid, from when they used to come to our house for the parties my brother used to throw our parents knew nothing about. We had a blast. It was the real deal. It felt like home.

My phone had been stolen in the morning of the same day. A splendid sunny spring Sunday in the diaphanous air of London. Bright! I’d just had an exquisite breakfast, in gorgeous company. I was visiting my brother I adore. He has two daughters who are even tastier than the Benedicts I had that day. We walked for hours afterwards. Soaked in. As I was taking a picture, my phone was stollen from my hands by a ninja on a bike. I’d never seen my brother running like the ninja that he is, but a bike was involved for a reason in the stream. I must’ve been taking too many pictures that morning and the universe has its unique ways of tapping on our shoulders and say Hey! when we’re not aware.

It’s likely for that day to have become so special to me precisely because I had no phone to pay attention to. We went to the police station, but we only found the aforementioned umbrella drinks. There was nothing left for me to do but just be. It amplified all of my senses. I’d, subconsciously, decided on living the moments of a lifetime in a city I adored and, thus, enjoyed everything.

Just as much as I’m enjoying the lights reflected everywhere by the disco ball slowly spinning at home right now.

Hey, hey!